


Family Reprogramming

by BlueBirdys, CosmicTanzanite



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Adoption, Father-Son Relationship, Found Family, Gen, Robots, Slice of Life, Takes place a while after "Happy Birthday Doofus Drake!"
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-10-17 15:22:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20623253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueBirdys/pseuds/BlueBirdys, https://archiveofourown.org/users/CosmicTanzanite/pseuds/CosmicTanzanite
Summary: A discovery is made in the junkyard.





	Family Reprogramming

“Mother. Father.”

“Doofus, you’re still grounded for another five months,” Mr. Drake exclaimed. “You know you’re not to be handling any more swords in the house!”

“Actually, father, this is a Fire Machete, not a sword. Put it in writing next time,” the duckling countered calmly, wielding the flaming weapon as he cornered his parents in the living room. They’d been having a calm evening game of chess until he’d walked in, creating an impromptu door through the drywall by hacking through it with the large knife.

“I believe I’ve been grounded for long enough.” Doofus threw the weapon over his shoulder, where it landed in a fountain to extinguish. “And I demand my rights and privileges back.”

“Well, you aren’t getting them until you prove yourself to be a good boy!” his mother dared to say. “That’s why we halved your fortune.”

“Oh, that you did,” Doofus chuckled, “but even then, that was plenty of money for me to buy a new friend.”

“A new friend?” The parents looked at each other, only to be startled by an earth-shaking thump that grew stronger and stronger by the second as a large figure stomped into the room.

“Dearest family,” Doofus introduced, “this is Strogan Hoff, and he’s here today to make sure I reclaim what is rightfully mine.”

A grunt came from the large bodyguard.

“N-now look here son-”

“No, YOU LOOK HERE!” Doofus yelled. “I am GaMeeMaMa’s golden child, and I WILL NOT BE SILENCED!”

“Mommy? Daddy?”

The small voice that had broken the frozen silence after Doofus’ tirade had caught everyone’s attention. Boyd heard the commotion from his room, where he had been quietly and calmly playing with his toys and couldn’t help but be worried! The Drakes’ stomachs dropped as they saw Doofus disdainfully glare upon their other child, who had been welcomed into their home and hearts by Louie Duck not so long ago.

“Ah, you,” Doofus hissed, reaching into his pocket, pulling out the remote control for Boyd, “I’m more than a little sick of you.”

“Where did you get that? We had that put away so-”

“I wouldn’t be able to reclaim my spot as an only child?” Doofus cut off his mother, waving the remote tauntingly. “Well sorry, Mumsy. But I have cameras everywhere. Everywhere….”

Slamming his fist on the remote, Boyd convulsed with a terrified cry as he suddenly blacked out, shutting down completely.

“No!” the Drakes wailed.

“From now on, things will be as they were, no questions asked!” Doofus adjusted his glasses and grabbed Boyd’s limp form.

“It was nice while it lasted,” his father whimpered through tears of defeat.

The child tyrant snapped his fingers, throwing Boyd and the remote behind him. “Strogan, one last favor, do get rid of this _ thing _ for me.”

* * *

“Of all the times to get a flat tire…” Gyro Gearloose grumbled, walking alongside his rickety old bicycle. “_ Bike to work _ , they said! _ It’s good for your health _ , they said! _ You’re banned from public transportation _, they said!”

He could stand being at least a little late to work, but he certainly wasn’t happy about it. Especially not since he would have to root through the scrapyard for another tire. Luckily, Gyro was no stranger to rooting through scrapyards, having often done so for inventions and projects. There was always interesting stuff to find, but unfortunately, it did often mean rooting through piles and piles of junk.

“Fishing pole...bucket...damaged rocket ship from last week...car steering wheel….” he muttered as he went through the piles. “Soda tab purse...artistic but useless.” He shook his head, throwing more and more junk over his shoulder. 

He laughed in triumph as he found a coveted bicycle tire, raising it in the air as he stepped atop the pile. As he climbed down the other side, he stopped in place as his attention was caught by sparks coming from behind another pile. Curiosity piqued, the inventor walked over to the source. Upon approaching the pile, his blood ran cold as he saw the seemingly lifeless body of a small child, abandoned alongside junk.

Before he could fully be traumatized at the idea of finding a child’s corpse, he saw the sparks coming from a gaping hole in the body where wires and circuits were exposed. 

_ A robot? _

Momentarily relieved that he wasn’t actually dealing with a dead child, Gyro got curious, and flipped the bot over, groaning internally as he recognized it as a work of Mark Beaks’. Who else would have made a robot in his image?

Moments after discovering the strangely child-like bot, something else caught the inventor’s eye: an object that at first glance appeared to be a common cellphone, but when he picked it up and studied it more, turned out to be some kind of remote. Judging by the charm dangling from its side that was reminiscent of the bot itself, this was what controlled him. Gyro attempted to turn it on but was only greeted with a fuzzy screen. He frowned.

Gyro figured it wouldn’t hurt to examine the damaged robot and see if it could be restored for experimentation or just scrapped for parts. Hauling it over his shoulder with the bike tire, he headed back to his bike and on his not-so-merry way to work.

* * *

“What is that?” Fenton asked Gyro when he’d made his way into the lab for work. 

“Something I found in the dumpster,” he replied, not looking up from his work.

“I see,” Fenton hummed, studying it further. Then, a sour expression made its way on his face. “Wait, why does it look like Beaks?”

“Probably because he made it. Or stole it from me, nonetheless. It’s made from the same kind of BulbTech he used for that nonsensical driving robot that almost got us all killed a few months back.”

“Yikes. So, what does it do?”

“Not sure. It was pretty busted, but I think I’m almost done tinkering with it.” Gyro put in the last screw to a panel on Boyd’s back and patted it gently, sighing. “There we go. The bot’s all fixed! Now I’ve got to have a look at the remote.”

“Remote?” Fenton cocked his head to the side.

“Oh, yes. It came with a remote too, but right now, it only displays static. It probably got wet or something.” Gyro held it up and pressed the button that would supposedly turn it on, only to be greeted with the same jumbled-up screen from before. “I can hardly read what any of this says and-”

The inventor was cut off by a sudden whirring noise. He flipped toward his desk to see that the robot was suddenly activated. A pit of dread settled in his stomach when he realized what had happened, and he heard Fenton gasp. 

“Did you just turn it on?” 

“I don’t know! I mean, I do know but- gah! How am I supposed to set this thing up?” Gyro peered into the screen, trying to read the blurred words in front of him. “I have no idea what any of the start-up options say!”

“Let me see,” Fenton offered. Gyro handed the remote to his co-worked, who peered into it for a few seconds before opening his mouth as if he’d found something. Then, he lowered it back into a frown. “Huh. No clue.”

“Thank for the help,” Gyro snapped, hastily grabbing the remote back from Fenton. In a moment of irritation, he pressed whatever was the firstmost option, and what looked to be an ‘OK’ button at the bottom of the screen.

In an instant, the robot perked up, almost as if it had awoken from a dream, blinking its large eyes at Gyro.

And then nothing happened.

Gyro thought to himself,_ Alright, so it looks like it did something, and it’s not actively trying to kill me, so that’s good…. _

The robot blinked again. “...Daddy?”

The color drained out of Gyro’s face immediately.

“Dr. Gearloose?” Fenton piped up awkwardly.

The chicken slowly stared at the remote’s screen as it restored itself for several short second increments and could properly read what exactly he had just pressed.

“Oh _ no _.”

* * *

“Is there anything I can help you with, Daddy?” the robot had asked cheerfully as he followed Gyro’s footsteps while the inventor paced around frantically, trying to undo his settings on the remote to no avail.

“Ohhh no, no, no, no, no, _ no! _” Gyro groaned to himself, ignoring the bot. “I don’t know how Beaks did this, but unless I figure it out, I’m screwed!”

“Well, if it’s your tech. Can’t you fix it?” Fenton asked, sitting in a chair as he watched Gyro pace.

“Normally yes, but Beaks went and made so many modifications that I can’t make heads or tails of it! It’s like untangling yarn!” He groaned. “For all I know, I’m stuck with a robot who thinks I’m his father!”

“You created the tech, wouldn’t you already be his father?” Fenton tilted his head.

“Not helping!”

“Daddy, I can help you find something if you need it!” the robot piped up, smiling sweetly.

"No thank you, whatever your name is!” Gyro waved him off dismissively.

“Boyd!”

“Boyd, right,” he grumbled. “Of all the places to find my tech, the scrapyard-” He paused, looking at the robot. “Wait. How did you even _ get _ in the scrapyard? Surely you must remember.”

Boyd tilted his head, then shook his head and smiled. “Nope!”

“Did Mark Beaks put you there?”

“Who’s Mark Beaks?”

Gyro sighed. “Do you remember where you were living before I found you?”

“Not at all! I’ve always lived with you, haven’t I?” Boyd asked, confused.

After a long silence, Gyro groaned. “Great, I’m stuck with a robot with amnesia. How could this day get any worse?”

Boyd opened his mouth to answer the question, but unable to find a proper answer, his circuits went wild and sparks flew out of him as he spasmed and fired lasers. Gyro gasped in horror and leapt for the remote, but it was still so fuzzy that he couldn’t read the options there. 

“Get the suit!” he called to Fenton, who nodded his head immediately. 

“Blathering blatherskite!” the duck announced, until the armor shot into view and assembled around him. He was quick to grab Boyd, attempting to calm him by shushing him but only seeming to distress him further. 

Acting quickly before the robotic child ruined anything in the lab, Gyro suddenly spoke up. “Don’t worry! It’s fine that you don’t remember. That’s what I’m here for...son!” He gritted his teeth and clenched his fists as he spoke, as if the words were killing him. “Just calm yourself, and everything will be okay.”

Crossing his fingers, Gyro watched Boyd struggle in Gizmoduck’s arms for a few more seconds before gradually calming down until he slumped over slightly. The inventor frowned for a moment, but then the robot’s head perked up, and he had on the same chipper smile from before.

“Thank you, Daddy!” he said with a smile. “You’re the best!”

Gyro rubbed at the back of his neck and groaned. He supposed that even if he didn’t exactly feel like being a father figure, it would be for the best if it didn’t get his lab destroyed.

“Anytime, um…”

“Boyd!”

“Yes, Boyd! My...precious little Boyd.” He coughed, and Gizmoduck put the small robot down. 

As soon as he touched the floor, Boyd’s feet suddenly sprouted rockets, and he flew over to Gyro. Before the inventor even had time to protest, he found himself pulled into a hug that was much more tighter than one from something of the little guy’s size should be. Feeling his ribs close to cracking, he sputtered and tried his hardest to get away to no avail.

“I love you!” Boyd announced, squeezing tighter. 

“T-That’s nice, dear, but you’re about to break my spine,” Gyro squawked, frantically pushing at Boyd.

Finally, the robot loosened his grip, and Gyro nearly fell over as he caught his breath. He hovered in the air, still grinning at the man who he saw as his father. 

Gyro gave an attemptedly-convincing smile back. 

_ What have I gotten myself into? _

* * *

Much to Gyro’s irritation, Fenton had brought up that it would be a good idea to take Boyd home with him for the night. He couldn’t trust a child-minded android to spend the night alone in his lab. Dinner had gone on fairly uneventful, aside from Boyd asking to help, Gyro declining and a pan setting on fire. Dishes had resulted in a flooded kitchen, and Gyro didn’t want to jinx the idea that things couldn’t get worse.

By the time Gyro was ready for bed, he didn’t want to count on the robot standing still and quiet all night. So he instead decided to busy himself and prepare the sofa for his houseguest to sleep or at least pretend to. Boyd watched him intently, tugging at the oversized collar of the t-shirt the chicken had lent to him for pajamas.

“Can you tuck me in?” 

“I’d rather not.”

“Can you tell me a story?”

Gyro gave a tight smile. “Once upon a time there was a little boy, and he did as he was told and went right to sleep. The end.”

Boyd thought for a moment, then piped up, “Can you tell me a longer story?”

Letting out a long sigh, Gyro glanced at him. “Look, I’m not a storyteller by any means, and I am very exhausted. I’d very much like to go to bed now.”

“Oh,” the child chirped. “Okay! Goodnight, Daddy!”

Without saying anything else, Gyro went through his bedtime routine of changing into pajamas, washing his face, brushing his teeth and putting on a rejuvenating cucumber face mask (nobody would ever know about this). Once he’d crawled into bed and read exactly ten and a half pages of his Raven Bradbury novel, he felt himself drift off into semi-consciousness.

Then he felt a weight sink onto the bed. Assuming it was his cat, Gyro reached a hand out to give her a scratch on the ears.

“Ow.”

Eyes shooting open, Gyro sat up in a startle to see who had intruded upon him and saw Boyd meekly watching him on folded knees.

“Hi Daddy.”

“What are you doing in here?” he asked in a harsh whisper, glaring.

“I can’t sleep.”

“And why’s that?”

Boyd tugged at his bowtie. “It’s really dark…”

“And? You’re supposed to sleep in the dark.”

“I know but…I’m scared.”

“Scared?” The inventor laughed softly. “There’s nothing to be scared of! I’ve only had my apartment broken into seven times this year and was only robbed five of those times.”

Boyd recoiled and gasped, and Gyro realized that he hadn’t used the most comforting words. “Look,” he continued, “it’s going to be alright. I don’t have anywhere else for you to sleep.”

“Oh…” The small robot was silent for a moment, and Gyro prepared to turn around before Boyd spoke again. “I was kind of hoping I could sleep with you.”

Gyro’s eyes opened wide in shock. “With _ me? _ I’m afraid I can’t allow that. I don’t much care for sharing my bed with individuals excluding my cat and…”

His voice trailed off as he found himself temporarily distracted by Boyd’s big, pleading eyes and sorrowful frown. It looked like he was about to start bawling or worse, shoot more lasers out of his eyes. Ones that would fire directly into Gyro’s face.

Fear and other feelings he didn’t want to admit to snuck over Gyro, and he coughed. “Oh, fine. I suppose you can sleep here for one night-”

“Yay!” Boyd’s expression changed from upset to jovial within a matter of seconds as he leapt into bed. He wasted no time snuggling up next to Gyro, nuzzling his forehead against the chicken’s shoulder as he made himself comfortable. “Nighty night.”

Gyro was frozen, entirely unfamiliar with anything even remotely close to this. “Um...you too.” He gave Boyd an awkward pat on the back before reaching over to turn his bedside lamp off.

* * *

Boyd had beaten Gyro to rising up in the morning, even before the alarm clock. And he was quick to delightfully wake the chicken, laughing in cheerful amusement at the startled noises Gyro made when he did so. Breakfast had just been a bagel and coffee, something thoughtlessly quick to wolf down while passively answering whatever questions Boyd had. Gyro hoped the kid would run out of questions by the time they got to the bus, transportation bans be damned.

“Why can’t we take our kitty to work, Daddy?” the child robot had asked, looking out the bus window as it slowly rolled down the street.

_ Our _? Gyro didn’t bother to question it. “Because a lab is no place for her, and she’d get into all kinds of trouble there.”

“Won’t she be lonely at home?”

“Hardly,” Gyro scoffed lightly. “She sleeps most of the time.”

“Oh!”

There was silence for the rest of the bus ride. Not out of awkwardness, rather from Boyd curiously watching the city go by, and Gyro zoning out from boredom. At the money bin, Boyd eagerly asked if he could press all the buttons on the elevator. 

“No.”  
  
“Okay!” he answered, just as cheery as before.  
  
That had admittedly weirded out Gyro a little, having expected the kid to be at least a little bit disappointed. But then again he was a robot child. And so he was perfect.

Maybe a little too perfect.

In the lab, Fenton and Manny had been preoccupied with some sort of project Gyro could care less about, and the chicken decided it was time to get down to business: repairing Boyd’s remote.

“I’ll need my tools,” he figured aloud.  
  
“I can get them!” Boyd offered eagerly.

“No need, I have Lil Bulb for that.” Gyro gestured for him to sit on the desk and looked down to see the tinier robot hopping up onto his shoulder. “Ah, speak of the devil. Lil Bulb? Meet Boyd. Boyd? Lil Bulb. Another creation of mine.”

“Oh boy! I have a little brother!?” Boyd cheered.

“No, no. Big brother,” Gyro corrected, trying not to look too amused.  
  
Lil Bulb did not see the humor in it, beginning to glow an irritable orange. Gyro gritted his teeth, knowing this couldn’t end well if it continued in the same direction.

“Hey there, big brother!” Boyd announced, cheery as ever as he extended a hand to Gyro’s invention. “I’m Boyd!”

The smaller robot studied it before turning his own hand into a fist and walking closer to Boyd in a menacing manner.

“Ummmm, Boyd?” Gyro coughed.

Boyd turned his head toward Gyro. “What is it, Daddy?”

Reaching his breaking point, Lil Bulb leapt toward the robot. Gyro gasped and grabbed for him, holding him back so he couldn’t do any damage. “No! Play nice, Lil Bulb!” 

Boyd also turned around to see what was going on and immediately appeared concerned. “Oh no! What’s wrong with my brother?”

“Nothing!” Gyro tried to sound as convincing as possible. “He’s just a little on the hot-headed side.”

This angered Lil Bulb, and he heated up to show it, so much that Gyro could no longer take it and dropped him. “Ow!”

Quick to act, Boyd caught the smaller bot before he was able to reach the ground. This only relieved Lil Bulb for a second, for he became rather angry again upon realizing who his savior was.   
  
Gyro, suckling his own burnt finger, looked down at Lil Bulb and gave a stern glare. “Watch yourself, mister. You play nice with Boyd, or you’re going in the bathroom’s ceiling light.”

Boyd never thought he could see a lightbulb get angry, but the infuriated glare the robot in his hand was giving his father was a little too hard to deny. When Gyro stormed off to work at his desk, he decided it was up to him to cheer the grumpy bulb up.  
  
“Lil Bulb? Maybe we could think of a fun game to play together! That way, Daddy can work in peace!”

Lil Bulb glowed bright red, settling his sights on a sledgehammer in the corner behind Boyd. Before he could leap out of Boyd’s hands, the robot clutched him tightly.

“Good!” Boyd cheered. “Let’s play aeroplane!”

Gyro was tinkering away with the remote, getting taken out of his inventor fog only momentarily when he heard Boyd making soft ‘airplane’ sounds and looked up to see him flying in circles overhead, holding Lil Bulb in one hand. The look of annoyance and defeat on the sentient lightbulb’s face amused Gyro a little more than it should, and it left him with a smirk as he got back to his project.

After only a few minutes however, the endearingly cute airplane noises turned into yelps of confusion and panic. Looking up, Gyro saw Boyd getting yanked off course, wildly soaring and shouting out warnings to whoever was possibly there. Lil Bulb was perched atop Boyd’s head, yanking his hair to pilot him erratically through the lab and making no moves to let go.

“A-AAAAAH, LIL BULB STOP! WE’RE GONNA CRASH!”  
  
“B-Boyd?!” Gyro screeched. “You two get down from there this instant!!”

“I’m trying!” Boyd cried, yelping as Lil Bulb forced him to plummet closer to the ground in a dive and soar up again at the last second. “DADDY, HELP!”

“That’s enough Lil Bulb, he’s not having fu-OOWOAHAAA!” Gyro screamed like a little girl as he ducked to avoid the close call with his head and when he stood back up, he lost sight of Boyd. Turning around, he froze in terror to see Lil Bulb piloting Boyd at full speed to collide into him.

“LOOK OUUUUT!”

In less than a second, Gyro was sent flying as Boyd involuntarily tackled into him, and they were all sent flying into a pile of scrap, sending parts scattering. Glasses crooked and in a daze, Gyro lay atop the pile of parts, trying to get his bearings together while Boyd sat atop him, blinking his optics individually to readjust. Once he noticed his poor father’s state, the little robot began to panic.

“Daddy, are you okay?!”

Lil Bulb stood atop Gyro’s head, giving a disapproving glare to Boyd like he just hadn’t caused this whole mess himself.

“I’m alright,” Gyro groaned, sitting upright. “It’s not the first time that’s happened to me.”

“I didn’t mean to crash!” the robot whimpered. “I’m ever so sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt you! I-” He began to spark and overload, eyes flashing bright colors.

“Ack! Oh no!” Gyro yelped, waving his hands frantically. “No no, see! I uh...Daddy...is fine! No blood or anything! Don’t worry about me alright? It’s okay to make mistakes, alright?”

“First time I’ve heard that from you!” Fenton piped up as he passed by from a corridor. Gyro had shot him a glare before turning his attention back to Boyd.

“I-It’s okay to make mistakes?”

“...Sure! Well, it’s at least okay to not know something! Like, I don’t know where my spare glasses went-”

Boyd’s arm extended to over half its size, bursting into a drawer and pulling back a pair of spectacles in less than five seconds.

“...Okay, I was just giving an example but...” Gyro sighed, rubbing his face tiredly. “Nobody’s perfect. Not even me.”

“But I’m supposed to be perfect. How do I not be perfect?”

“You can just try.”

“I don’t know if I can.”

“Here, kick over this wastebasket for me without picking it up.” Gyro placed a tub of paper in front of Boyd, folding his arms in wait.

Boyd stared anxiously at the wastebasket, screwing his eyes shut as he reared his foot back and gave it the gentlest kick. A few wads of paper fell out, and he immediately panicked. “Oh! I’m ever so sorry, Daddy! I-”

“No, no, that’s good! Now, don’t pick up the paper. Walk away from it.”

Boyd gulped. Nervously, he turned around and stiffly and slowly walked away.

“Good! See? You don’t have to be perfe-”

Upon seeing smoke rising from Boyd’s head, Gyro screamed and yelped, “OKAY PUT THE PAPER BACK, SON! YOU CAN BE PERFECT AGAIN!”

Boyd quickly did as he was told, returning to normal within a few seconds much to Gyro’s relief. The chicken held in a breath. This was going to take more than a pep talk. Luckily, he had a fairly good idea of what to do. And even luckier, he was pretty good at it.

* * *

“Say ‘ah’,” Gyro instructed Boyd.

Sat upon the desk, the robot did as he was asked and as optimistic as ever, not even gagging as Gyro shoved a microchip into the back of Boyd’s throat.

“What was that?” The child tilted his head once Gyro had finished.

“An upgrade.” Gyro smirked as he grabbed a wastebasket again. “Now can you tip this over for me?”  
  
“O-oh! Okay!” Boyd smiled a little nervously, gently kicking the bin and watching it fall.

“Now,” Gyro folded his arms, “what do you want to do with that?”

“I…” Boyd stared at the bare-minimum mess, realizing his processor wasn’t screaming at him to clean it at that very instant. “I...don’t know?”

Gyro grinned a little to himself. “You don’t know?”

“N-No…” Boyd looked at the mess, then at Gyro, then at the mess again, eyes widening in realization. “Wait...I...don’t know…” He stared at his hands. “I don’t know!” He gasped, suddenly getting excited. “I didn’t know, and I didn’t spark or anything! Wait! How come I didn’t? What did you do, Daddy?”

“Nothing much.” Gyro smiled a little proudly to himself. “Just provided you an upgrade to your system that allows you to continue operations even in the case of a logic problem. That way you can function without your head almost melting on me.”  
  
“Yippee!” the child robot cheered, suddenly ramming into Gyro to give his legs a tight hug. “Thank you, Daddy!”

Gyro nearly lost his balance from his legs getting pulled but stayed steady as he awkwardly patted Boyd’s head, trying not to smile too much. “Y-You’re welcome.”  
  
For the last two weeks, he’d been more or less the sole caretaker of Boyd, studying his programming and quirks and seeing what could be updated or improved. He’d even managed to repair the remote to enough of a stage where he could actually read all the different prompts on the screen and understand the controls. 

He still didn’t know where the heck Boyd came from or how he ended up in the junkyard. He wasn’t planning to get any info out of Mark Beaks on it, and all his other sources of info came up short. Not that it was a huge problem if he couldn’t find Boyd’s origins anyway. He wouldn’t admit it outright, but the little guy was already starting to grow on him more than he’d ever thought he would.

Boyd also proved to be useful when Gyro needed an extra set of hands around the lab. Sure, he’d always had Lil Bulb around for that reason, but he was beginning to realize that having the newer robot take over his creation’s duties caused the one-sided tensions between them to ebb away. Therefore, he encouraged it, and Boyd surely didn’t mind. 

That being said, Gyro felt that a celebration was in order for the kid. By Fenton’s suggestion, he decided to take Boyd to Funso’s Fun Zone. While Gyro didn’t think highly of the place, not even as a child (the mascot scared him), he felt that it was right up Boyd’s alley. And he was right. 

The two of them had a wonderful experience at the restaurant full of arcade games, ball pits and familial bonding. Right before they planned to go home, Boyd insisted that Gyro order the two of them a giant banana split sundae.

“I don’t know,” Gyro replied, tugging at his bowtie. “I’m not sure if that would work.”

“Awww, but it looks so pretty! Pleeease?” Boyd gave Gyro the big, sorrowful eyes that he could never say no to, instantly causing the chicken to give in with a roll of his eyes. 

Soon enough, the two of them were sitting at a table in front of the giant sundae. Gyro anxiously watched Boyd, prepared for any troubleshooting that could possibly occur if he tried to eat it. Before he could give a warning, the eager child slammed his face into the ice cream and sat there like that for a few seconds, not moving. 

A little mortified, Gyro brought a hand up to gently poke Boyd’s shoulder. “Um, Boyd...are you doing alright there?”

“I’m eating the ice cream!” he chirped, rotating his face to look at Gyro with an ice cream-filled smile. “This is how it’s done, right?”

Gyro opened his beak, but the mild distress on Boyd’s face was enough to get him to close it and nod. “Yes! Of course it is!”

“Yay!” Boyd slammed his face back into the sundae.

Right as Gyro was about to take a bite of the dessert, a voice from behind startled him, and he dropped his spoon. 

“Gyro Gearloose? What are you doing here?”

He whipped around to see one of Scrooge’s nephews, the one who always wore a green hoodie, glaring at him in bewilderment. Gyro scowled.

“Hello, um...green one. I suppose I should ask the same of you.”

Louie (that was his name!) frowned. “I’m a kid?”

“Oh. Fair enough.” He rolled his eyes and motioned to Boyd, who was still face-first in the banana split. “I’m here with my...hmmmmm...my rather close friend who is significantly younger than me and also a robot.” He still wasn’t exactly sure how to refer to Boyd when speaking to other people.

“Huh?” Louie cocked his head to the side to see who Gyro was talking about, and almost immediately, his eyes lit up. “Wait, Boyd!?”

Boyd perked up at his voice and turned to face Louie, wiping the ice cream from his face to get a better look at him. However, despite the familiarity in the duckling’s tone, Boyd didn’t seem to recognize him.

A sensation gripped Gyro, something in-between shock and a little bit of fear. “You know Boyd?”

“Yeah!” Louie informed him. “He’s Doofus Drake’s little brother, right?” The duckling shuddered. “By the way, how’d that turn out? Do I even want to know?”

Boyd blinked his optics. “Who are you? Who is Doofus Drake?”

Gyro felt his heart begin to thud against his ribcage as he saw Louie screw up his face in confusion. “Ooh boy, something’s not right here.” He turned to Gyro, almost accustory. “What did you do to him?”

The chicken scoffed, becoming a little heated at the notion of him ever purposefully doing something to harm Boyd. “Nothing! I found him in a scrapyard a few weeks ago, that’s all. I’ve been trying to find out where he came from but so far have found nothing. Therefore, I’ve temporarily taken him under my wing.” Gyro glanced to Boyd, who was starting to become visibly stressed.

“Daddy, who is this?” he asked, scooting closer to Gyro and tugging at his sleeve. “Why does he know my name?”

“Wait, did he just call you his dad!?” Louie gasped, becoming more and more frantic by the second.

Gyro coughed, patting Boyd on the head to console him before turning back to snap at Louie. “It was an accident, and I can’t undo it, okay!?”

Louie folded his arms. "You know you can delete yourself from his remote at any time and re-add the Drakes, right?"

The chicken sucked in his cheeks. "...Oh."

"Problem solved. You're welcome!" Louie gave finger guns. "Probably should make sure Doofus' parents aren't in mortal danger...mmm...nah.”

As Louie walked away, Gyro looked between the remote on the table and Boyd's face, messy with ice cream yet concerned. At any time, he could make this go away and pretend it never happened. He decided instead to give a reassuring smile to Boyd, using a napkin to wipe his face. 

He wouldn't worry about it now. And he didn't know if he ever wanted to.

* * *

"I mean, if they really are that pressed about it, I could easily make them another copy of Boyd but less interesting than him," Gyro monologgued as he sat with Fenton at his desk, watching as Boyd eagerly took apart and reconstructed a model train set that Gyro had done away with, using eye lasers to weld the pieces.

"Do you think his parents are looking for him?"

"If they were, wouldn't they have found him by now?"

Fenton saw the affectionate gaze in Gyro's eye as he watched Boyd. It warmed and broke his heart all at once.

"You know he has to go back to them, right?"

Gyro's stare hardened, and he gave a sharp look to Fenton. "Of course I know. Give me a few weeks and I'll-"

"Gyro...the longer you wait, the harder it will be to let go of him."

He hated how true and terrible Fenton's words were, especially with how much it warmed him to see the little robot child play and how much he liked having him around his home.

"He doesn't remember them anyway," Gyro hissed, almost angry. "He loves me, not them."

"But think about how much they probably miss him...probably just as much as you will…maybe even more."

Gyro said nothing more.

When it was time to go home, he hoped deep down that the gnawing sensation in his chest would stop as he thought over what Fenton had said. He didn't want to give Boyd back. Until just recently, he'd never considered himself a parent or capable of having a family of any sort, and yet here he was. Boyd was the closest thing he had to a family ever since his father and grandfather passed. He was a good kid. A loving and bright kid. He'd managed to worm himself into Gyro's heart and warm it up.

Warm and uplifted as it was, Gyro's heart fractured with the truth of the matter: Boyd had to go back.

He'd called Fenton, asking him to make the call to the Drakes for him, but Louie had cut into the phone conversation, warning that Gizmoduck may need to deliver the news in person in case Doofus was there. Fenton called Gyro later that night. Good and bad news all at once: Mr. and Mrs. Drake were elated that Boyd was safe and wanted him to come home.

Gyro didn't tell Boyd. He couldn't bear to even suggest that he'd be parted from Gyro. Instead, he made dinner, washed dishes and let Boyd turn on the television for a movie. There was even popcorn. The little one couldn't stop smiling the whole time. 

Bedtime hit, and Gyro read to Boyd aloud from a sci-fi book. Not once did the boy seem bored or confused. He asked Gyro if they could read again tomorrow. Gyro promised even though he knew it wasn’t possible to keep it.

After turning out the light, Boyd had bid his Daddy goodnight and held his hand until his system turned off. Gyro held back the urge to cry, eyes only starting to burn as he fell asleep.

* * *

"Where are we going, Daddy?" Boyd asked, happy to be holding Gyro's hand even if the chicken seemed absentminded.

"Er, just visiting friends, " Gyro explained, studying the address he'd been given. He then looked up to see a luxurious home with a large tree sticking out of it.

"Hoo boy…"

Gyro ignored all the creepy Orwellian cameras tracking him as he went up the walk-way and to the door. Pressing the doorbell, a booming voice from a snotty child that declared he was not welcome replaced the ringing noise, but Gyro did not budge one inch, staring at the speaker, unimpressed.

Finally, the door cracked open, and Gyro looked up to meet the face of whatever tall muscled drink of water answered the door. Boyd immediately hid behind Gyro's legs.

"Strogan Hoff?"

"Gyro Gearloose?"

The bodyguard bear's stoic demeanor melted away and he laughed. "I haven't seen you since college! How's life treatin' ya?"

"Oh good! Good!" Gyro smiled, nodding. "How's Steve? You two still together?"

"Oh yeah! He's fine. Saw you in the papers a while back for electric cars or somethin'! Congrats!"

"Oh, you know, all in a day's work," the chicken laughed. "So what brings you in this neck of the woods?"

"Eh, just doin' a little security detail for the kid who lives here. Man, this brat is loaded."

"Oh, I can imagine," Gyro nodded with a smile, holding up Scrooge McDuck's company credit card. “How much is he paying you?"

Doofus had been busy making his parents act out his freshly written script for a musical he’d titled “Genesis: Doofus Drake” when his whole body tinged with unidentifiable rage. Someone or _ something _ was here that shouldn’t have been.

Almost immediately, he threw an unintelligible tantrum in place as he saw Boyd turn the corner with some strange chicken in a bowtie, and his screaming almost drowned out the relieved cheers of delight from his parents at seeing their second son.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything.” Gyro adjusted his glasses, trying not to look to smug at his entrance.

“You! I’ll have my guard do away with the both of you!” Doofus announced, pointing a finger angrily at the two newcomers.  
  
“Yeah, good luck with that. We were college lab partners.” Gyro folded his arms. “Now if you could please stop screaming so I could have a word with your parents, I would be much appreciative-”

Doofus gave an enraged yell and tried to charge like a bull in Gyro’s direction. Not all too impressed, Gyro made no move to run or evade the portly duckling.

Boyd, on the other hand, did not like at all how this mean child was threatening to hurt his Daddy. And forgetting his previous nervousness, he came out from behind Gyro’s legs and slammed a hand right into Doofus’ chest. The duckling cried out, convulsing in place as electric currents flowed through him, and he dropped to the floor in a twitching, stunned heap.

Looking down angrily at Doofus, Boyd then looked as the sparks around his hand died down and turned to face Gyro, who seemed more than a little surprised.

“Er...whilst that wasn’t necessary, thank you, Boyd...wait here a moment please?” Gyro awkwardly stuttered, ruffling the boy’s hair as he stepped over Doofus to approach the parents, holding up the remote. “I made some changes, not anything truly that noticeable, but I think the largest change was allowing him the ability to handle questions that he might not know the answer to. And allowing him to make mistakes without his head melting on you.”  
  
“Er...thank you?” Mr. Drake looked to his wife, who then gave Gyro a worried look.

“But does he remember us?”

“At the moment? No. But that will be resolved once I alter the settings and reinstate you as his parents...and me as...well, nobody.”

“So I guess this is like re-adoption, huh?” Mr. Drake laughed nervously, still seeming on edge. “But...what about our worse- I mean, older son? What if he tries to get his hands on the remote again to hurt Boyd?”

“Oh, allow me.” Gyro smiled dryly for a second, walking over to Doofus and scanning him with the remote. He pressed a few buttons, and then nudged the stunned duckling, offering him the remote. “Hey, Richie Rich. Knock yourself out.”

In one quick motion, Doofus grabbed for the remote only to receive another painful shock, leaving him on the floor. Gyro gave a smug nod to his handiwork, then smiled to the parents.  
  
“I installed a security feature so anyone who is deemed an intruder won’t be able to even touch this thing without getting fried.”

“O-Oh! That’s wonderful! That’s amazing!” Mr. Drake smiled, looking between the remote and his electrically disciplined son.  
  
“We can’t thank you enough!” Mrs. Drake looked ready to cry in joy.

Seeing both parents slowly turn their gaze to focus on Boyd, who was still waiting patiently for Gyro to return his attention to him, the inventor gave a melancholy smile. “I suppose I should hand this over to you. Allow me just a minute.”

“Take all the time you need.”

Gyro slowly walked over to the robot child, giving a weak smile as he stared between him and the remote as he adjusted the settings. It was all queued up. Boyd would have his old memories and family back, and Gyro would no longer even exist to him. All he had to do was press ‘Ok.’

Boyd smiled innocently at Gyro, and it was enough to make the inventor’s heart rip in half. He reached over to pull his temporary robot son into a hug, holding back tears.

“Goodbye, Boyd.”

Still smiling, the boy chirped back, “Goodbye, Daddy! Wait, where are you going?”

Gyro said nothing and pressed ‘Ok.’

* * *

It had been about a week since Gyro said his final goodbyes to Boyd. Overall, he was doing alright. He kept things going in the lab as usual and tried his hardest not to think too hard about Boyd, what he was doing, how his new family was treating him, if he was okay...if he missed him, although Gyro knew the answer to that. 

Luckily, he was mostly able to distract himself with his work. Fenton was out with a cold, so he was twice as busy as he would have been anyway. He was just finishing up some blueprints when Scrooge came down to the lab with a message for him.

“Gyro! There’s some people here to see you.”

“Huh?” Gyro looked up from his blueprints, confused. “But I’m not aware of anyone planning to visit me, Mr. McDuck. Do you know what they want?”

“Not sure. They’re waiting in the bin.” He motioned for Gyro to follow, which he reluctantly did.

He was expecting it to be someone interested in a deal with his tech, one that would likely be turned down either by Gyro himself or the board of investors. Therefore, he was quite surprised by what he saw.

As soon as the elevator doors opened, and Gyro took a look at who had come to visit him, he stopped in his tracks. For a second, he almost felt like he was seeing things. Then, a small yet familiar voice let him know that he wasn’t.

“Hey, Uncle Gyro!”

It took every fibre of Gyro’s being to not pass out from surprise and joy. Boyd was there, looking at him with the same admiration that had been in his eyes a week ago. The Drakes were with him, smiling fondly at the inventor.

“I…” Gyro started out, still too surprised to know what to say.

“Dr. Gearloose,” Mrs. Drake spoke, “we know how much you care about Boyd. We honestly can’t thank you enough for keeping him safe for us.”

“Plus, whatever fixes you did on him worked flawlessly,” Mr. Drake piped up. “He hasn’t accidentally set a single thing on fire ever since he came home!”

“Oh.” Gyro smiled nervously. “That’s nice.”

“It is.” Mrs. Drake nodded toward him. “And we still want you to be a part of his family. So we programmed you as Boyd’s uncle.”

“We figured he could use someone to stay with when we’re unable to look after him, as well as someone who would know exactly what to do if anything ever happened to him,” Mr. Drake picked up. “Hopefully, that’s alright with you.”

Still choked up, Gyro crouched down to be level with Boyd. Feeling his heart nearly explode out of his chest, the chicken wasted no time in extending his arms to the small robot, who leapt into them almost instantly for a tight hug. Boyd still didn’t have a grasp on his own strength, however, and it pretty much knocked Gyro over on the floor. Nonetheless, the hug continued. A tear rolled down Gyro’s cheek as he realized that he’d finally got back what he had been missing. He quickly wiped it away, cheeks flushed with slight embarrassment. 

“That’s perfect,” he finally replied, looking up at the Drakes. “Thank you. I’ll take good care of him whenever you need me.”

“We know you will.”  
  
“Speaking of which…” Mr. Drake smiled awkwardly. “You wouldn’t mind perhaps taking him off our hands for a couple hours would you?”

“Right now?”

“We haven’t had a lot of time out of the house as of late,” Mrs. Drake explained apologetically. “It would be nice to-”

“Take your time.” The inventor immediately smiled, allowing Boyd to give him another hug.

‘Uncle Gyro’ had a nice ring to it.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
